


Chocolate Strawberries

by buckybarnesthehotshot



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M, Ransom Drysdale - Freeform, Ransom Drysdale Fanfiction, ransom drysdale x reader - Freeform, ransom drysdale x y/n, ransom drysdale x you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybarnesthehotshot/pseuds/buckybarnesthehotshot
Summary: Ransom mistake while trying to make breakfast
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale & Reader, Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Chocolate Strawberries

“Ransom?” y/n yawned, her eyes watching her fiancé crawl out of bed as the alarm blared through the room; something he seldom did. The alarm would have been snoozed at least once or twice before Ransom made the conscious decision to leave the bed.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Ransom smiled down at her, setting a kiss on her forehead as she squinted at the sunlight entering the room through the windows. He found himself chuckling at how his fiancé looked in the morning, barely adjusting to the sunlight.

“You’re up early,” y/n commented, burying herself under the sheets as the lack of Ransom’s warmth at her side began to hit her.

“Figured I’d make you a Valentine’s Day feast for breakfast,” Ransom shrugged as y/n’s eyes snapped open.

“No,” she told him off firmly, shaking her head at the idea of even letting Ransom anywhere near a stovetop, “There’s no fucking way you’re cooking. You’re smart with shit, but I fucking detest the idea of letting you use the stove.”

“It’s just breakfast food, y/n. Making breakfast isn’t as challenging as dinner or whatever,” Ransom rolled his eyes at y/n’s attempts to keep him from making them breakfast, “Besides, your mom taught me to cook when we visited.”

“I’m going to go take a shower. Please, just make sure we still have a house when you’re done cooking,” y/n crawled out of bed, smiled up at Ransom, and headed to the bathroom. Somehow, Ransom telling her that her own mother taught him to cook put her at ease.

Ransom’s confident expression, however, faltered the moment she left the room. Sure, he helped y/n’s mom make breakfast for them a couple times during their visit, but he still wasn’t exactly sure how cooking worked.

He headed down to the kitchen, clutching the list of ingredients he’d printed off from his phone. He scoured the cabinets for the ingredients for pancakes and luckily for him, most of the ingredients he needed were just in the pantry. He set the dry ingredients onto the counter before turning to the fridge in search of the rest of the ingredients.

When he went to look for measuring tools, he found himself confused. Was there a specific measurement for a tablespoon or was he supposed to pull a spoon from one of the drawers and just use that to measure, instead? His problems were given a solution when he came across different sized spoons attached to a keyring, all of them labeled with the measurements they held. He smirked to himself, maybe making breakfast wouldn’t be as challenging as he thought it would be.

He got to mixing everything in a bowl and for once—despite the flour spills—he felt like he had a sliver of a chance at successfully whipping up a batch of pancakes in his first attempt of cooking them…or anything, actually.

“Hey, would you look at that! The kitchen’s still intact!” y/n exclaimed playfully, walking into the kitchen and placing a quick peck on Ransom’s lips before running her fingers along the countertop, “I mean, there are a few flour spills, but I can forgive those.”

“I told you I could manage cooking,” Ransom chuckled, holding up the bowl of pancake batter he mixed up. y/n laughed at the sight of the batter nearly dripping out the bowl as Ransom held it up.

“So, you haven’t started the actual cooking yet? No wonder we still have a house,” she chuckled nervously, patting Ransom on the back before turning to the fridge, “I, on the other hand, will be making chocolate-covered strawberries in case the pancakes don’t cook or whatever.”

“Do you not have faith in me?” Ransom quipped as y/n gave him a serious look.

“I don’t have faith in your cooking skills,” she deadpanned as Ransom found himself giving a nervous laugh. Maybe she was right, he could probably botch the pancakes and make something not-so-edible on accident.

Despite all the doubt, they began to work side by side; y/n melting chocolate and Ransom lighting up the stove to start cooking the pancakes. He started off by pouring a small amount of oil on the pan, noticing the not-so-subtle glances y/n sent him.

“What?” he snapped, turning to face her judgmental glances. She shrugged nonchalantly before responding.

“You should’ve used butter,” she mumbled as Ransom nodded slowly, reminding himself to use butter for the next batch of pancakes.

He got on to frying the pancakes—and he somehow managed to flip and plate three pancakes before he found himself distracted as he watched his fiancé dipping strawberries in melted chocolate. Sure, it was a simple task for her to be doing, but still, he found himself in awe with how gentle she was with the strawberries and with how neatly she managed to do everything; a stark contrast to the mess he made while trying to pour batter onto the pans.

A smile of adoration made its way onto his features as he made his way towards y/n. He wrapped his strong arms around her frame, resting his chin on top of her head.

“Those are definitely looking much better than the pancakes,” Ransom mumbled, watching her set the strawberries on a baking sheet.

“Aww, don’t be too harsh on yourself, babe,” y/n smiled up at him, “That’s my job.”

“One of the few things you’re better than me at is cooking, y/n,” Ransom narrowed his eyes at her jokingly.

“Still, I’m better than the great Hugh Ransom Drysdale at something and that’s an achievement for me,” y/n winked at him, pulling a chuckle from Ransom as he placed his lips on hers, pulling her as close to him as possible. y/n found herself smiling into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck, taking in his scent.

“You’re really fucking gorgeous, have I told you that lately?” Ransom questioned, a smirk on his face as he brushed a stray hair away from her cheek.

“Not enough,” she chuckled before taking a whiff of the air around them, “Ransom, what the fuck is that smell?”

“Shit!” Ransom cursed, turning to face the stovetop where the pancake was charred and the sides of the pan had flames growing alongside them. Ransom grabbed the nearest dish rag and began to attempt to swat out the flamed, crying out when the rag itself was set ablaze and Ransom made the decision to throw it into the fire.

“How do you not have a fire extinguisher?” y/n huffed, looking through the kitchen drawers and cabinets for a distinct red bottle.

“I never cook, y/n. I never in my life needed one!” Ransom rushed to the sink, filling a cup with water and tossing it at the pan, making the oil he’d put on the pan earlier splash onto the stove, only aiding with the growth of the flames.

“You don’t even have a smoke detector? Seriously?” y/n cried out as her e/c eyes looked to the ceilings to check if her fiancé even had any smoke detectors in the house.

“I have a few friends who come over and smoke at the house. After being showered unexpectedly a few times, do you think I would’ve kept the smoke detectors?” Ransom rolled his eyes, trying to think of ways he could kill the fire with the items he had accessible to him.

“Yes! I would’ve expected you to just tell your friends to smoke outside the house,” y/n shook her head, grabbing her phone off the kitchen counter, “Fuck this, I’m calling the fire department.”

And that was how they found themselves outside their house, watching a group of firefighters attempt to put out the flames in their kitchen.

“I’m not letting you cook again,” y/n shook her head, laughing reassuringly as she leaned against Ransom’s shoulder.

“I’m really sorry for that, babe,” Ransom mumbled, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her close to him.

“Fuck it, you tried your best and well, this happened. It’s fine,” y/n smiled up at him before holding up the one thing she took from the kitchen before it was engulfed in flames, “So, chocolate-covered strawberry?”


End file.
